What I’ve been reading lately…

Meta

Blog Stats

Tag: Wicked

Let’s talk a little this morning on how we limit ourselves. We all do it. Whether we are limiting our food portions, our snack options, our children from activities, ourselves from being who we are–we limit ourselves.

Here is a song that talks about being limited from the first line:

Now, I agree with speed limits (usually) and age limits (at least I do now, as a teen, I wasn’t too keen on them), and sometimes a good time limit serves a purpose (like when my children need to do their chores or eat a serving of unfavorite veggies off a plate). But, what I want to talk about is how we limit ourselves.

Have you ever said one of these phrases?

I can’t do that.

I can’t do that (because you are so good at it).

I can’t pull that off.

I could never _____________.

I could never do what you are doing.

I didn’t get enough sleep to do that.

I can’t deal with that today (or any day).

I’m done.

I’m totally guilty of the last one. I say it often…but thankfully not as often as I once did. If you are saying one or more of these phrases, will you stop? Do you know how to stop? Do you want to stop? Can you fill your mind with positive, “I can” statements?

Many of you know that I have half-a-dozen children. I do. They are really cool, and I don’t exactly take credit for them. People sometimes ooooo and ahhhh over my abilities. But they didn’t come into my home all at once. (Two of them came together–and that was one of the most difficult experiences of my life, but that’s another story.) As I had one–or two–at a time, my capacity increased to be able to take care of my children. I was blessed with more insight and patience.

I am undertaking another stretching and creative experience right now. This experience, along with trying to manage my family’s increasingly hectic schedule, has been difficult. But, I have also been blessed to grow and learn with each new undertaking. With the traumas we experienced last fall, my capacities grew again. Right now, I’m working on community outreach with a Writing for Wellness program. With each new endeavor, I learn and grow and become more developed as a human than I was yesterday, or last week, or two months ago.

Certainly, life calls for times of rest and recuperation. Sometimes we are stretched beyond what we are able and we need to ask for help or let some less important tasks go. (Don’t ask me how clean my house is or when the last time I folded laundry was….) But sometimes we need to say YES to stretching ourselves beyond our current abilities. Once we decide to do this, we will have people and opportunities placed in our path where we can work “For Good.”

That line is from the song “I’m Not That Girl” from the musical Wicked. It’s taken entirely out of context here, but that message was one I needed today.

For the last several weeks I have been bogged down, trudging through the unusual monotonies of life. I have kept up with the demands of eight schedules, school assignments for seven, and various other church and community-related activities. But, I have not been myself.

I know, because last fall, I was not myself. And I have felt that lost feeling again.

At one point this week, I decided I was finished with feeling that way. I broke out my toolbox of coping skills: more diligent scripture study, reaching out to friends, more fervent prayer, yoga, Temple attendance, running, and embracing my love of music (thus the song running through my head this morning). In all these moments, I felt like I was cracking open a window, allowing just a bit of fresh air and sunlight into the tired room of my soul.

But I had practically given up something that is an integral part of who I am. I almost stopped writing.

This morning, as I pondered that singular line from a most-beloved musical, I felt the message resounding in my brain.

“Don’t lose sight of who you are.”

I have to write. It is healing. Supporting. It is my sanity.

I created a poem once that begins with these words, “I was born to write a song.” Not just any song–but a song of words, woven with care. A musical.

So, I’m back to my desktop today, trying to remember, recall, reenvision through my own revisions the novel that is part of who I am.

So, I have a friend (actually, I like to think that I have a few), and I have sisters…and daughters…and many of them feel (as I do) that we are anything but beautiful on any given day. We get overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy about our accomplishments, our figures, our blemishes (that oft-times only we see), our shortcomings…the list could go on and on and on…but what I want to say (and literally yell from my little window in cyberspace) is that

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!!

(And, guys, you are not off the hook. If you have women in your life–you know, mothers, sisters, friends, wives, daughters–they need to hear that from you. Your words have POWER. Please tell someone they are beautiful today!)

So, back to my friend (who is completely beautiful and wise and amazing and fantastic and talented and gorgeous inside and out)…she and I try to build each other, and I’m so grateful that she will send a text or email at just the right moment to help me feel like the beautiful person that I am (yet rarely acknowledge).

So–here are my “I Feel Pretty” songs for your enjoyment (and some are on the Spotify playlist on the sidebar, too, if you’d rather listen than watch):

I got this one from my sister when I was having a terrible time recently…and it’s still my go-to happy/pretty song: